Bunraku
by Frost Deejn
Summary: Eames disappears while on an undercover investigation. When Goren finds her, how far will Eames go to protect him? BA.
1. Wake Up Call

Bunraku

Disclaimer: As much as I wish _Law & Order: Criminal Intent _was mine, it is not. But since the actual writers and producers won't get Bobby and Alex together, it's up to us, the fans, to do so.

Chapter 1: Wake-Up Call

A man walked into a bar. This late at night, there were only a few people still there, most of them sitting quietly, nursing liquor and contemplating their individual lives.

The young man rubbed his eyes as he took a seat at the bar, as far from any other patron as possible. The bartender, a young woman with sleek black hair in a long ponytail, finished pouring a beer for a man at the end of the counter, then came toward the newcomer. "Usual tonight, Victor?" she asked.

"I'll just get some coffee right now, Molly."

"Coming up."

He watched her as she turned away to pour the coffee. He was going to miss her; she was the best view in the bar. "The boss wants to talk to you before work tomorrow," he mentioned.

"Did he say what about?" she asked as she set the mug in front of him. She sounded unconcerned. The bitch was a good actress. He wondered what her real name was.

"I'm sure it's nothing bad. Maybe there was a complaint or something. When do you get off work?"

"Half an hour," she answered, glancing at her watch and stifling a yawn.

Victor nodded to himself, thinking about the weight of the concealed gun in his jacket. Half an hour: how long she had to live.

* * *

Alex Eames twitched as the insistent ringing of her phone yanked her from sleep. She glanced at the glowing numbers of the bedside clock and groaned. It could only be work. "Eames," she said into the phone.

"Good morning, Detective," it was Captain Ross's voice.

"Doesn't feel like it. What's going on?"

"There will be an FBI agent stopping by your house in ten minutes. I wanted to give you a head's up."

She sat up in bed. "FBI? What the hell is going on?"

"I'll explain when we get there." He hung up.

A little less than ten minutes later, Eames' doorbell rang. She pulled herself away from the calming gurgle of her coffee maker and answered it. The square of light opened into the early morning, revealing Ross and a man she didn't know.

"Detective Eames, this is Special Agent Hadrian King." Ross didn't look any happier about being up this early than Eames was. Less, in fact. Which concerned her.

Agent King, a muscular man of average height with crew-cut black hair and a dusting of freckles, didn't look particularly enthusiastic either. "I'm sorry to get you up at this hour, Detective Eames, but when I explain the situation I think you'll understand."

She grudgingly invited them inside. "Would you like some coffee?"

The FBI agent nodded. "Yes. Thanks."

"I've already had my maximum dose this morning, thank you," said Ross.

Eames tried to guess why Ross and an FBI agent would pay her a secret visit at three a.m. Her tired mind couldn't even posit an unlikely explanation. She handed Agent King his coffee and waited expectantly.

He leaned forward, his hands wrapped around the mug resting on the coffee table. "Last week, we lost contact with an undercover officer in Atlantic City. On Monday her body was found at a garbage dump, shot execution-style in the back of the head. She had been working at a bar that belonged to one of the most dangerous gangsters in New Jersey."

She glanced at Ross. "And what does that have to do with me?"

"To avoid having the undercover officer recognized by the local criminals, we brought in a cop from out of town. Her name was Margo Suzuki. I understand you knew her?"

Eames sat up straighter, frowning. "She was a rookie in Vice right before I left. I helped train her. She was a good kid; I'm sorry that she went out that way. But I still don't understand why this couldn't have waited."

"The man she was investigating is named Bob Dwight," King continued. "I believe that should also ring a bell?"

She tensed at the name. "I met him when I was working undercover in Vice. I was doing a prostitution sting when he asked me if I wanted to make some extra money doing some delivery jobs for him. I told him I'd think about it. After clearing it with my captain, I went to work for Dwight. We didn't get anything useful out of it. And I left without blowing my cover." She was beginning to see where this might be going, and she didn't like it.

"If Dwight found out Margo was a cop and had her killed, he's going to be on the lookout for more undercovers. We've got to take him down, and we think it would be easier if we had someone on the inside, someone he already knew and wouldn't be as suspicious of."

"Me."

King nodded.

"When I knew him, Dwight was a small-time pimp and drug dealer. How'd he get the FBI's attention?"

"He owns a casino and hotel in Atlantic City that he uses as a front for a prostitution ring, as well as the headquarters for a counterfeiting operation. He has his hands in a number of drug rings and shady land deals, and recent financial transactions Margo reported make us think he's about to expand, maybe out of state. Not to mention, he killed a cop."

"I get it," Eames nodded. "But why all the secrecy?"

"We think there's someone in law enforcement leaking information to him. We keep setting up raids that he keeps finding out about in advance, and we believe that's how Margo's cover was blown, which means his source may be in the NYPD. We need to make sure no one outside this room finds out who we send in next. I needed to brief your captain, of course, because if you had stopped showing up to work without explanation it would have been too suspicious. If you agree to help us, we'll leave for Atlantic City this morning."

Eames looked to Ross again. He didn't meet her eyes. "I need to talk to Bobby. I need to explain this."

"Bobby?" King looked questioningly at Ross.

"Her partner, Detective Goren," he explained.

"No," the FBI agent said. "We can't let anyone in on her assignment who doesn't absolutely need to know."

"If I can't talk to my partner about it, I'm not going," she insisted.

Ross turned to Agent King. "If you're worried that Goren will let it slip that Eames is undercover, don't be. For various reasons, he doesn't have many friends in the NYPD. And he's dealt with this kind of thing before."

"We don't have time to brief him. We need to leave as soon as possible."

"I'll talk to him today," Ross assured Eames.

"Promise me," she said, "that you'll tell him this wasn't my idea, and that I have to do this for Margo."

He nodded solemnly.

"Okay." She turned to the FBI agent. "I'll go."


	2. Cover

Chapter 2: Cover

It was no secret that Bobby Goren did not like paperwork. He was working on typing up his report on the latest case he and Eames had closed, but it was hard to focus. His eyes drifted to the clock, and he frowned. Eames was late.

He picked up the phone, dialed the number he knew by heart in spite of it being number one on his speed dial, and listened to the ring. "Eames," he said after the beep, "I'm just...wondering where you are. Making sure you're... Just call me if you're not coming in today."

A few minutes later, Captain Ross approached him. "Detective, can I speak with you in my office?"

He followed unhappily. Being called to Ross's office was never good news.

"Sit down," Ross said after the door closed.

Goren did. "What's this about?"

"It's about Eames. She's not coming in today."

He was feeling increasingly uneasy. "What happened to her?"

Ross dropped his voice to just above a whisper. "She's on an undercover assignment."

"Well...when is she going to be back?" Goren's subdued voice carried only a hint of the stricken panic he felt at the news.

"I can't discuss the details of her assignment."

Goren wondered if she was doing this on purpose, to get back at him for the time he went undercover without telling her. But intellectually he knew that wasn't true.

"She wanted to tell you in person, but security measures made that inadvisable."

"Is her assignment dangerous?"

"Undercovers are always dangerous. You know that. She's trying to catch a cop killer. The officer was a young woman she worked with in Vice. That's why she took the job."

Bobby shook his head unhappily. "But we were still working the Stadler case."

"You got the confession; you can do the follow-up on your own. I'm going to assign you the Judge Yap case. You should be able to handle that without her."

"I thought Judge Yap commit suicide."

"That's what it looks like, but with a case this high-profile, no one wants any stone left unturned."

"If you hear anything from Eames..."

"I'll keep you in the loop as much as I can, but you have to understand, this case is highly sensitive. I doubt I'll be hearing much about it until she gets back."

Goren frowned as he returned to his desk. He rested his chin on his fist, his brow furled. It didn't make sense. Why would Eames suddenly go undercover? What if something happened to her?

She'd been angry at him for being undercover without telling her, but this was different. He had nothing to lose; she had a life, a family, hope for career advancement. Why would she accept a dangerous assignment?

He tried to push away his worries and get back to work.

* * *

Eames looked out tinted windows of the FBI agent's car as the buildings of Atlantic City passed by. She missed New York already.

"Once inside, you'll be on your own," Agent King said. "On Sunday, some time between four and seven p.m., take a taxi to Altman Field Park along Pacific Avenue. I'll be waiting at the side of the road, wearing a green baseball cap. Instruct the taxi driver to pull over and pick me up. Detective, are you listening?"

"I got it," she said.

"What did I just say? It's very important that you commit it to memory. Under no circumstances are you to write it down."

She repeated his instructions nearly verbatim.

"Good." He pulled over in front of dimly lit diner and checked his watch. "Dwight tends to arrive for brunch at around 11:15. He doesn't seem to have changed his routine since Margo's death. We'll need to make sure he arrives before you go in. Make sure he recognizes you before you even notice him."

"Did you know Margo well?" Eames inquired as they watched the diner.

"I'd been working for her for several months."

"I'm sorry."

"She knew the risks," he responded. "There he is."

Bob Dwight had put on weight since the last time Eames had seen him, ten years ago. And his hair had turned from chestnut brown to slate grey, but she still recognized him. His face, which had once been chiseled and austere, was now softening with age, and though it wasn't handsome, it had a kind of residue of handsomeness. He disappeared inside the diner.

"Go," King said after a couple of minutes.

Eames got out of the car. She was dressed in an inexpensive purple shirt and skirt outfit and an old pair of high heels. In her purse she carried nothing but her false ID and a few tens and twenties.

The bell on the door of the diner chimed when she entered. She walked up to the young man behind the counter. "Hi, I was wondering if your hiring?" she asked with an undertone of desperation in her voice. She could see Dwight sitting near the wall, but didn't glance his way.

"Yeah. Let me grab you an ap. Just a minute." He turned away to get coffee for a customer.

Eames sat on one of the high benches and rubbed her eyes. She stretched her feet as if they were tired, as if she'd been walking for hours.

"Lily? Lily Corvino?"

She glanced over quickly. At first she looked confused, and then surprised as Dwight stood from his table and approached her. "Bob? I haven't seen you in years! I didn't know you were in Atlantic City."

"You either. You're looking good, Lily."

She laughed. "I wish. You've aged well, though."

"Don't flatter me; I have people I pay to do that. I started a business down here; I'm doing pretty well for myself. What are you doing here? I thought you were married."

She nodded. When she'd left her job with Dwight while she was in Vice, she'd told him she was marrying one of her clients, a wealthy lawyer. "That didn't work out. When he divorced me, he got everything. The bastard even brought up my record to get full custody of my son." She bit her lip. "I don't got the looks to go back to what I used to do, and it's hard getting a job with my record." She began to turn away. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be unloading to you. I just...haven't seen a familiar face for a while."

"It's alright. Look, Lil, I know what a good worker you are, and I could use a new assistant, if you don't want to work in a dump like this."

She looked up, blinking quickly to dispel the tears that had been brimming in her eyes. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Interested?"

A black car with dark tinted windows drove past the diner, and Eames suddenly felt more vulnerable than she had in a long time. But she managed a grateful-looking smiled. "Very interested."


	3. Asunder

Chapter 3: Asunder

Bob Dwight led the woman he knew as Lily Corvino to a door at the back of the casino, which led to the administrative offices.

"I bet the IRS is watching you like a hawk," she commented.

"Yeah, but they're easy enough to deal with. I've got good guys working for me." He waited for her to say something snappy. That was one of the things he'd always liked about Lily: her sarcastic wit. But she only nodded. She seemed so tired, so much more world-weary than she had been before. He supposed marriage could do that to a woman. "So what brought you to Jersey?"

"I just needed a change of scene. I woulda gone further if I had the dough. Some place sunny. I'm lucky I ran into you." She smiled at him.

He smiled back. "This is the city for luck, Lily."

"You have a nice place here," Lily said after an awkward pause.

"I hope you like working here. It's so hard to find people I can trust."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't inquire if he'd had problems with untrustworthy people in the past.

A wiry man with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes entered the room. "Can I talk to you?" he asked Dwight quickly.

"What about?"

"Privately."

Dwight smiled lazily. "Victor, I'd like you to meet the newest member of our team. This is Lily Corvino. Lily, this is my right-hand man, Victor."

"Nice to meet you," she said.

Victor nearly glared at her. "I need to talk to you _now_, Bob."

"Excuse me a minute." Dwight stood, and the two men walked into the next room and closed the door. Eames looked around, then walked to the door. By listening closely she could make out most of their conversation.

"What's the word, Victor?"

"It's Chakur. His guys came around again. I can only think of one reason they'd be scoping your place out."

"Chakur's just a two-bit dealer trying to play with the big boys. I'll deal with him."

"But if the deal goes through..."

"Then we won't have to worry about Chakur anymore."

"But if he tries anything before then?"

"Then I'll make sure we don't have to worry about him anymore."

"We can't afford anything going wrong."

"You don't have to tell me that, Vic."

"Then what's up with the girl?"

"An old friend down on her luck."

"She just happens to show up now?"

"Don't worry about it." Dwight's voice dropped. "When I met her ten years ago, she was a hooker in New York. She's not a cop."

"A lot can change in ten years."

"And a lot can stay the same. Don't worry; we'll keep an eye on her."

Eames heard footsteps and hurried back to the chair she'd been sitting in before the door opened and the two men returned. Victor looked her over distastefully, and then left.

"He seems friendly," Eames remarked wryly.

"He's just under a lot of stress. Later I'll introduce you to the rest of my crew."

"I look forward to it. I really can't thank you enough for giving me a chance."

"Don't do anything to make me regret it." His smile belied the vaguely threatening words, and she decided he was probably joking.

* * *

"Harry didn't kill himself. He would never do that," sobbed Donna Yap, the late judge's widow.

"He was found in his locked house with no signs of forced entry. His gun was next to him," said Officer Bonitez, who had been the first on the scene. He directed his comment at Detective Goren, but spoke loud enough for Donna to hear.

"Whoever killed him was trying to make it look like a suicide. Believe me, I would have known if he was suicidal. Harry was happy. He...he wouldn't do this to me."

"Donna," Goren said gently, "Do you know if your husband had any enemies?"

"He was a judge. Every case he presided over, someone lost. I don't know if anyone threatened him, but he didn't like me to worry about him. You believe me, don't you? Someone killed him."

Goren nodded, but said, "It's possible. At this point we don't want to rule anything out."

She nodded. "I just can't believe he's gone. I can't imagine my life without him."

* * *

Hadrian King sat on a bench as cold rain dripped down his baseball cap. He had been there for an hour. There was a newspaper on his hands. It was drenched and nearly unreadable, but he kept his eyes on it anyway. It wasn't likely anyone in the cars passing by would give more than a passing, pitying glance to the forlorn figure sitting alone in the rain on a Sunday afternoon.

A taxi pulled over. He glanced up, threw away the newspaper, and got in. "Boardwalk," he told the driver.

"Sorry I didn't get here earlier. I didn't want to look like I was in a hurry to get away," Eames said.

"Of course not. What have you found so far?" He spoke in a low voice that the driver wouldn't overhear.

"Not much. Dwight's not letting me close to anything illegal. So far he just has me doing odd jobs for him around the casino. He's being more careful than he was ten years ago."

"He has a lot more to lose."

"There are five guys he trusts. I see them a lot at the casino, but they never look like they're doing anything."

King nodded. "Jackson Mathers, Denise Everson, Mason Fergus, Victor James, and Louis McNeely."

"He called Victor his right-hand man. I hear them talk about a 'deal' that's going down soon, but they don't mention the details. Victor's worried about a guy named Chakur."

"William Chakur. He invested money in the casino, but Dwight bought him out early on. Now he runs a drug ring on the west side."

"Victor thinks they're trying to move in on Dwight's territory."

"Dwight might be doing million-dollar deals with his casino clients, but he's a thug at heart. If he sees a problem that can be solved with a gun, that's the way he's going to solve it. I wouldn't be surprised if that includes competition from an old friend. We'll look into it." He spoke louder, to the driver. "Can you take the next left?"

Eames continued after a moment. "I haven't heard anyone mention Margo. If one of them killed her, they're not talking about it."

"Don't poke around too much just yet. Right now your job is to gain Dwight's trust. Do you see the brown building coming up on the right?"

She looked out the window. "Yeah."

"It's a public pool. Meet me there at eight a.m. on Wednesday."

"If I live that long," she replied, half joking.

* * *

A look at the crime scene hadn't given Goren much. There was no evidence that Judge Harold Yap was murdered. In spite of what the widow claimed, people he worked with said the judge had seemed withdrawn and listless for the past few weeks, but no one knew why.

Goren had asked for the files on the judge's recent rulings, but they wouldn't be delivered until Tuesday. With nothing else to go on yet, he left work early.

The evening air was chilly and unusually fresh. It had been raining all day, but now the sun glowed from low in the city skyline; the lingering stacks of clouds captured its light in translucent shades of brass and silver. Goren admired them as he walked aimlessly through the city streets. With nowhere to go and nothing to occupy him, his thoughts drifted with the sunset clouds, and they took him again and again to Eames.

When he'd started work at Major Case, years ago, he'd been a brilliant, admired, idealistic detective with friends and contacts high and low. He'd had a family-not much of one, but it had been something. And Eames had been the best partner he could have asked for.

So much had changed. He was a pariah in the NYPD, most of his favors had been called in long ago; he'd lost his mother and his brother, his faith in his own abilities, Eames' trust. He'd learned things about himself he'd rather not know. All he had left was his job, and without Eames that would be nothing more than an empty obligation. She was sunlight in an otherwise cold and dark world. Where was she now? Was she in danger?

Would he ever see her again?


	4. Tocsin

Chapter 4: Tocsin

Goren read through the records of Judge Yap's cases with bleary eyes. There were a lot of people who had motive to kill the judge, but there was no reason to believe any of them had. If anyone had threatened his life, he hadn't reported it. He set aside some files to look into more deeply later, but so far nothing was jumping out at him.

Officer Bonitez arrived. "Hey Goren, I brought my notes from my interviews with the judge's neighbors. I don't think you'll find anything; no one knows their neighbors anymore." He dropped the copied notes on Eames' desk, since Goren's was already covered in stacks of papers, then he sat in the chair across from him. "I'm sorry if I came across as callous to the judge's wife the other day, but I gotta admit, I think that gunshot was self-inflicted. The guy had a stressful job: seeing criminals come through his courtroom every day, being powerless to stop it if the jury lets off someone he knows is guilty. It's has to get to you after a while. And suicides are more common than homicides."

"That is true," Goren conceded. He slid the notes to his desk and put them to the side. "But with someone who had as many enemies as a judge, we have to...make sure. Do you have to sit there?"

Bonitez looked confused.

"I'm sorry, it's just...that's my partner's chair."

"Right." He stood up. "I'll talk to you later Goren. Let me know if you get a suspect."

After Bonitez left, Captain Ross walked up to him. He'd watched the exchange with mild amusement. "You know, Eames did the same thing when you were on leave. She wouldn't let anyone touch your desk."

"Have you heard from her?" Goren inquired quietly.

"No, but sometimes no news is good news."

"Sometimes it seems like no news is ever good news."

Ross chuckled. "Don't worry, Goren. She'll be back."

Goren nodded, and went back to reading the court records.

Hours later, he was drinking his fifth coffee of the day while going over Judge Yap's phone records and comparing his calls with the names from his court cases when he noticed one number that the judge had called frequently up until three weeks previous, when the calls suddenly stopped. It was an extension at a consulting firm. He dialed the number.

A woman answered after the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Detective Goren from the NYPD. Can I ask who I'm speaking to?"

"I'm Laura Szekely. What's this about?"

"Did you know Harold Yap?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly. "Did something happen to him?"

"Miss Szekely, I'd like you to come in to answer some questions."

* * *

"Goodnight Lily."

"Night Bob."

Eames left the casino out a back door. The night was lit by the dull orange glow of the city lights reflecting off the clouds. It had rained earlier, but now it was still, and as quiet as Atlantic City at three a.m. ever got.

She was just about to round the corner when she paused. Something about the way the light from the street lamp was shifting on the walls gave her the impression there was someone behind her. She fought the temptation to reach for her gun-the one she of course couldn't carry with her on a risky undercover assignment. She glanced behind her.

"Victor, you scared me half to death," she said, smiling with feigned relief.

He walked toward her, then pulled out a gun and shoved the barrel into her face. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Wh...what?"

"Your name! What's your name?"

"Lily Corvino."

"You're a cop, aren't you?"

She looked at him with panic in her eyes, and refrained from knocking aside the gun and twisting his arm behind his back, as her instinct and training were screaming for her to do; she had to maintain cover. "No! I swear, I'm not a cop. Why are you doing this to me, Vic?"

"You expect me to believe that you just happen to drop in now?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Please don't kill me...I've got a son!"

He glared at her for a long minute, then started backing away, but kept the gun on her. "I'm watching you," he warned before turning and entering the building.

Eames stood watching after him for a moment until her heart stopped pounding in her chest, then she turned and walked away. That had been almost too close.

* * *

The pool was empty except for one man swimming laps. When he saw someone standing next to the pool, he swam toward her and pulled himself out. Water streamed off his muscular body. On his left chest was a tattoo of a tiger batting at an orange and black butterfly.

"You're early," King noted.

Eames handed him a towel. "Interesting tattoo. Is there a story behind it?"

"No." He wrapped the towel around his shoulders. "What have you found?"

"I like the way you cut the small talk and get straight to business."

He looked at her impatiently. "The less time we spend together, the less likely someone will see us and recognize us, the safer you'll be, the better chance we have to find out what Dwight's up to."

"I get the impression he's planning to leave town soon," Eames said. "He's been going through files at the casino like he's making sure there's nothing incriminating out in the open, like he plans to be leaving it with someone else for a while. I don't know how much Dwight really trusts me, but his guy Victor doesn't at all. He threatened me last night. He had a gun."

"Could be the same gun that killed Margo."

"I wouldn't be surprised. Victor seems like the type of guy who likes to play fast and loose."

"Do you want to be pulled out?"

"No," Eames said quickly. "I don't think Victor's that suspicious yet. When should we meet next?"

"Friday morning at six, Starbucks on North Michigan Avenue."

"If the gangsters don't kill me, these early mornings will. Do you know how late Dwight has me working?"

"No one you work with is likely to be awake then, either. Makes it less likely that someone who knows you will see you."

"Is it true what they say about the FBI not having a sense of humor that you're aware of?" Eames asked.

King didn't smile. "I can't speak for other agents. But the way I see it, you can question my humanity, but never question my dedication to my job."

"Got it," she said.

"I'll see you Friday." He walked out.


	5. Delible

Chapter 5: Delible

"Bob, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course. What's wrong?"

Eames paused. She'd been debating how to handle what happened with Victor. She was taking a calculated risk telling Dwight about it. If forced to choose between her word and that of his trusted henchman, Dwight would of course take Victor's side. But it would be extremely suspicious if she kept her mouth shut and he found out about it some other way. "It's about Vic. Last night...he threatened me. He accused me of being a cop."

"I see." He frowned. "Lily, you know not everything I do is strictly legal..."

"I understand that. But he had a gun. For a minute, I thought he was really going to shoot me."

"We had some police trouble a little while ago. Victor's just being overly cautious. I'll talk to him, okay?"

She nodded. "Thank you."

* * *

Goren met with the woman he'd talked to over the phone. Laura Szekely was in her forties, with long dark brown hair and a thin rectangular face. Her eyes were red-rimmed and watery.

"I was an expert witness in a malpractice case. That's how I met Harold. We started talking after the trial...I can't believe he's gone."

"Ms. Szekely, how close were you and Judge Yap?" Goren asked.

She sighed. "We were having an affair." She bit her lip. "_Were. _We broke it off. I broke it off." She buried her face in her hands. "God, this is all my fault."

"Why do you think that?"

"I told him...I wasn't going to be second place. He would either leave his wife, or...and he told me he loved us both."

"So you walked away," Goren said sympathetically. "Of course you did. It was the only thing you could do."

Her features tightened. She wasn't in tears, but she was close to it. "Last week he started calling me. I didn't return his calls. The last message he left...he said he could never choose between us, and that he...that he wasn't going to ruin my life. I didn't know what he meant. I guess I do now."

"You couldn't have known what he might do."

"You don't understand, detective." Something like a sob came from her throat, but she still held her tears back. "I loved him. I really did. I know it was wrong. I know it was improper. But that's the way it was."

"I do understand," he told her sincerely. He understood what it was like to love someone he wasn't supposed to, better than he could admit. "Do you still have that message?"

"No, I erased it."

"Do you mind if our computer techs see if they can recover it?"

"Why? I thought you said it was suicide."

"What I said is that he was found shot in his home with his gun. It's still an open investigation." She was becoming uncooperative. He decided it was time to put her on the defensive. "Where were you Friday morning?"

She stared at him. "I was at work. All day. You can check with my boss."

"I will. In these kind of cases, the most likely suspects are the wife and the lover. His wife insisted this wasn't a suicide. Laura, that doesn't look good for you."

"I _didn't_ kill him."

"You might want to let our techs try and recover that message," he suggested.

After a moment, she nodded.

* * *

Eames was finishing up her work at the casino when she heard someone walk into the office. She tensed.

"You did some good work today, Lily," said Dwight.

She turned to him. "Thank you."

"I talked to Victor; he won't give you any more trouble."

"You don't know how much I appreciate that."

He smiled at her. "Come on. I'll take you home."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. I insist."

With a shrug and a yawn, Eames followed him out, thinking over excuses she could use if he made a move on her. As they walked toward Dwight's car in the parking lot behind the building, a dark SUV drove by and began to slow. Eames' cop sense instantly sounded the alarm.

"Get down!" She tackled Dwight to the ground as a hail of bullets spat at them from the SUV's back window. She closed her eyes and thought of her family, her nephew, Bobby. Would she ever see them again? Would she die without telling Bobby she was sorry?

As soon as it began, the shooting stopped. The wheels of the vehicle squealed as it sped away. She looked up only to see the license plate had been removed. "Are you okay?" she asked Dwight.

"I'm fine. You saved my life."

She looked at him, not sure how she felt about saving this man's life. "Should we call the cops?"

"No," he replied, glaring down the road. "Those were William's guys. We'll handle it ourselves."


	6. Gone

Chapter 6: Gone

Halfway through his second latte, King began to worry. Detective Eames should have arrived by then. He watched the yellow light of the morning sun creep millimeter by millimeter across the table, growing increasingly concerned.

His cellphone rang.

"King," he answered. Listened for a moment. "What kind of complication?" His unsmiling face became even more austere with each word he heard. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Send a plainclothes to the undercover's apartment." He flipped the phone closed and went up to the barrista. "Excuse me. If a blond woman comes in looking for me, could you let her use your phone to call me?"

"Okay," the girl replied uncertainly.

A few minutes later, King arrived at a crime scene. He parked his vehicle between two police cars and walked into the large house, holding up his badge as he passed. The interior of the house was sparsely furnished, and the walls were pocked with bullet holes. "How many bodies?"

"We've found five men and two women," said Captain Bainbridge, who was in charge of the scene. King had been working with her on the Dwight investigation. "One of them has been positively identified as drug kingpin William Chakur. The house belongs to him."

"When did this go down?"

"Shots were heard at about two thirty this morning."

"Any indication of who did this?"

"Not yet, but some of my guys are going to pick up Bob Dwight for questioning."

"Did you find anything unusual when you arrived?"

The police captain raised an eyebrow. "More unusual than the seven bodies? Not that I noticed." Her cellphone started ringing. She answered quickly and walked to a quieter corner of the busy crime scene to talk.

The FBI agent's own cellphone buzzed. "King." He listened for a second. "Did you find a note or any other indication of where she might have gone? Put surveillance on her apartment."

A minute later, Bainbridge returned. "Dwight seems to have disappeared, along with most of his inner circle. He's not at his casino, his home, or any of his usual hangouts."

"I'm not surprised. My contact failed to check in this morning. Something went wrong."

"One of the crime scene techs found something odd." She nodded to the tech, who was holding a plastic evidence bag with a bar of soap in it. He handed it to King, who inspected it carefully.

On the underside of the soap bar were letters that looked like they'd been carved out with a blunt fingernail. HK NYC AE.

"Is that what you meant by 'unusual'?" Bainbridge inquired.

"Yeah." He walked out without another word.

* * *

"You have to agree," Officer Bonitez said after listening to the recovered voicemail from Judge Yap to his former mistress, "it does sound a lot like a suicide note."

Goren nodded. "I've been reading up on his rulings. He was a man who liked compromises. He hated the thought of breaking off with either of the women in his life. When he realized that wasn't an option...I think he saw this as the only solution."

"So you're okay with closing this case?"

"Yeah I am," Goren said. He wasn't happy with it, but Szekely's alibi had been confirmed, Mrs. Yap had also been at work when her husband died, and there was no evidence at the scene to point to anything other than suicide.

"His wife's not going to be happy," Bonitez mused.

"Especially when she finds out why he did it. She's going to be angry. Do you want me to break the news to her?"

"No, I will. I think she's already labeled me the bad cop; if she sees you at her door she'll think it's good news."

Goren didn't protest. Bonitez was a young cop, and could use the experience. He went to find Ross to tell him they'd closed the case.

Captain Ross wasn't in his office. Goren tried his cellphone.

Ross answered on the fourth ring. "Goren, is this urgent?"

"Not really. I just...closed the Yap case. We're going to be filing it a suicide. There might be some political fallout. You should be familiar with the details in case the brass asks you questions about it."

"That doesn't matter right now. Hang on a moment." The line went silent for a few seconds, then Ross's voice returned. "Goren, I want you to leave work early. Call me back from your car. I'll give you directions where to meet me." He sounded unhappy, and Goren thought he heard another voice in the background.

"What's going on?"

"It's about Eames." He hung up. That was all Goren needed to hear to get him out the door.

* * *

Goren arrived at the address Ross had given him: an apartment on a quiet street. The door was unlocked. He entered to find Ross and a man he didn't know.

"Close the door, Detective."

"What's going on? What happened to Eames?"

"Detective Goren, FBI special agent Hadrian King. He was Eames' handler." Ross seemed to be drawing back, removing himself from any responsibility in what Goren was about to hear.

Goren's eyes fastened on King. "What happened?" he said quietly.

"Detective Eames was working with a casino owner in Atlantic City who's suspected of running a prostitution ring, drug dealing, blackmail, and various scams. Basically if it's profitable and illegal, Bob Dwight does it. He knew Eames from when she was working undercover in Vice. We figured he would be more likely to trust someone he already knew, and we were right."

"I was told she was trying to get a cop killer," Goren said.

King nodded. "The last undercover officer...we think someone leaked her identity, someone from the NYPD. That's why we were so careful this time."

Goren shuffled a step closer to the FBI agent. "Where is she? You put her with a cop killer...when he was already on his guard..."

"A rival drug gang was found executed this morning. Dwight was almost certainly behind it. Evidence suggests Eames was there."

"Where is she now?" Goren moved a little closer.

"Dwight and his associates have disappeared. We think they're in New York."

"And Eames?"

"We think she's either with them, or..."

Goren's pent up energy exploded outward. He slammed King against the wall, his large hand around the smaller man's neck. "You _lost _her? You put Eames there, and you...lost her?" His breath came in quick, sharp bursts between his words.

King stared back at him evenly, no trace of fear or any other emotion in his eyes. "Your captain told me you would react like this," he commented. "We found this at the murder scene." He took a photo from his pocket and held it up for Goren; it showed the message on the bar of soap.

He took the photo and let go of the FBI agent, stepping back. "HK. That would be you? New York City. Alex Eames."

"We know from pulling Dwight's phone records that he was in touch with a man in New York City, an ex-con named Nathan Wheaton. He was arrested earlier today on a minor possession charge, but we didn't find anything at his house connecting him to Dwight. We haven't questioned him yet."

"Because someone might get suspicious if an FBI agent questions someone on a possession charge?"

"Because I've met both with Detective Eames and the previous undercover. I don't think any of Dwight's associates saw me, but if I am recognized it could endanger the investigation."

"That's why I'm here," Goren realized.

"Captain Ross tells me you are a skilled interrogator. The sooner we can figure out how Wheaton is connected to Dwight, the sooner we can find your partner."


	7. Across a Crowded Room

Chapter 7: Across a Crowded Room

"The charges are a bunch of crap," Nathan Wheaton surmised.

Across the interrogation table, Goren laughed. The burning worry that was eating away at his insides didn't show in his eyes. He looked like a hardened, cold cop, capable of anything. "We found drugs on you, Nate. Considering your rap sheet-burglary, embezzling, dealing-no way you're getting a break on this."

"That was years ago," the suspect said. "I cleaned myself up. I got a real job, I'm keeping away from my old crowd. Man, I am _trying _to turn my life around. How can I do that with you cops breathing down my neck?"

"Maybe by keeping clean, Nate. How do you think we found you? You think we just happened to be looking in your direction when you did the drug buy? We know what you've been doing. We've been watching you for a long time. It's going to be a lot better on you if you cooperate with us."

"Hey, that was nothing illegal. How long I'm gonna be in here?"

"Do you have somewhere to be, Nate?"

"Maybe I do."

Goren sighed dramatically. "Look, do you think I like wasting my time with small fry like you? If you tell us what we want to know, we can have you out of here by tomorrow."

"I want my phone call."

Goren looked down at him intimidatingly. "What makes you think you get a phone call?"

"Maybe I wanna call my lawyer."

The detective paused. "When you were arrested, you said you didn't want an attorney."

"I said I didn't want one of your cheap-ass public defenders. I want to call my own lawyer."

Goren nodded and walked out. He met up with Ross in the observation room.

"That didn't tell us much," Ross said.

"We need to get Wheaton's financial records," Goren stated. "He shouldn't be able to afford an attorney on his own. We need to know where he's getting the money from."

* * *

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon at One Police Plaza. Goren was at his desk waiting for word on what Wheaton's financial records turned up. He was pretending to fill out some paperwork, trying not to look at Eames' desk.

His phone rang. He picked it up and took a deep breath. Please let it be Eames.

"Goren," he said.

"It's me." It was Agent King. "In five minutes, walk out the front doors and wait. Within a minute, I'll park a dark blue car in front of you. Get in as fast as you can. Don't tell anyone you're leaving. I've already informed Captain Ross."

Goren followed the instructions, and exactly six minutes later slid into the passenger seat of a dark blue car with tinted windows.

As the car pulled away from the curb, King began to explain. "At first glance, Wheaton's financial situation doesn't seem too unusual, but a more detailed investigation revealed that he had a series of lucky streaks in Atlantic City last year. You'll never guess what his favorite casino is."

"Dwight's."

King nodded. "All of his wins were under a thousand dollars, but they add up to over fifty thousand."

"That money didn't show up in his bank account?"

"No. Most of it he invested in the Zabka Hotel."

"I've never heard of it."

"Then you haven't read today's newspaper. It's going to be the city's newest upscale hotel, and its grand opening is tonight. The man behind it is Troy Zabka, a business prodigy from Virginia. Made his first million before he was old enough to buy a drink."

"A hotel...that sounds right up Dwight's alley."

"Exactly. Makes a great cover for prostitution, drugs, or identity theft. And if he's going into business with Zabka, it makes sense that he's doing it through a third party to cover his tracks."

"But if Dwight is in New York...I bet he's going to the opening."

"Possibly. He's bold. That's why I'm sending someone in undercover."

"Send me."

King glanced at him.

"I...I've done undercover before. I can do it."

"You have a personal stake. And if Dwight finds out we're onto him, he and his cronies are going to disappear."

"I can do it," Goren repeated, quietly but firmly. "Please. She's my partner."

"Is that all she is to you?"

A little stunned by the question, Goren shook his head. "I'm a cop...Nothing's more important than that."

"I understand," King said with the same cadence he would have used if Goren had confirmed his implication. "We'll have to go to the Bureau field office and get you your bona fides, and you'll need a new suit."

"And you need to run a background check to clear me for the operation."

King confirmed Goren's suspicion by replying, "I already have."

* * *

The Zabka Hotel was a large building perched on the edge of the ocean. Crystal chandeliers, gold-embroidered tablecloths, and a wall-sized window overlooking the water were just a few of the decorative touches adorning the large ballroom where the opening gala was held. Men and women in ensembles that cost more money than some people's annual salary drifted around the room chatting, drinking, sampling the hors d'oeuvres.

Goren stood near the window holding a glass of champagne that he pretended to sip. He felt out of place in spite of his fresh shave, Armani suit, and gold watch. In the hour and a half he'd been there, he had already been sucked into polite conversations ranging from foreign real estate investments to the comparative fashionability of various activist organizations. Thanks largely to things he had learned on cases over the years, he had so far managed to blend.

Another group arrived through the double doors at the top of the black marble staircase across the room. In the center was a man Goren recognized from photos as Bob Dwight. On his right was a younger man with dark brown hair, on his left a blond woman in a short blue dress.

Despite his assurances to Agent King, Goren wasn't sure he'd be able to control himself when he faced Dwight. He could imagine himself throwing the crook to the ground and demanding to know what he did to Eames.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself and quickly reviewing his cover story in his mind, he started toward the new arrivals.

Dwight spotted the night's host, Troy Zabka, and headed toward him. His entourage disbursed to enjoy the party until only the young man and the blond woman remained.

Goren was a few yards from the group when Zabka made a joke. The woman laughed.

It was the laugh.

Goren pressed his fist against his mouth to keep from calling out. He closed his eyes, then looked again. With the stiletto heels making her look taller and changing her walk, the tight dress, her hair pinned up in a delicate twist he'd never seen her wear before, and heavy makeup...he hadn't recognized his Eames at first.

She turned toward Dwight and caught sight of a familiar shape in her peripheral vision. Her eyes flicked in his direction, and her vacuous smile, for an instant, became real, and it was for him.


	8. Orrery

Chapter 8: Orrery

When Eames caught sight of Goren in the ballroom, relief flooded through her.

Two nights earlier, after the men in the SUV shot at them, Dwight had made a phone call. Then they drove out to a dark house and waited in the car until they heard gunshots. Eames hadn't known Dwight would have the people behind the drive-by killed. He'd taken her into the house to "reassure" her that they were dead. He also repeatedly assured her that they were just drug dealers-the kinds of homicides that tended to go unsolved.

Victor was there, and a couple of Dwight's other employees. The bodies were on the floor. She had been revolted; not by the blood, as she pretended, but because she hadn't been able to stop this. Victor asked Dwight why he brought her, and what he should do with her. Dwight said they would leave for New York early, taking her with them. He said Lily had saved his life; she was on their side. She'd claimed she was going to throw up. The look Victor gave her told her that if she stepped outside he would put a bullet in her back no matter what Dwight said, so she'd gone to the bathroom and wrote the message in the soap, hoping King would find it.

They hadn't allowed her to go back to her apartment. Only minutes after leaving the bloody scene, they were all piled in a van heading to New York City. Dwight had decided she would be his date at a party. She and one of Dwight's female employees (whom Victor instructed to keep a close eye on her) had spent all day shopping and getting ready for the party. Eames had been surreptitiously looking for a chance to make an unobserved phone call, but one never arose.

She'd decided to go along with Dwight at the party until she had a chance to slip away. Seeing someone she knew was the last thing she'd expected. She couldn't imagine how Bobby had figured it how to find her, but wasn't too surprised that he had. She wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him. Just knowing he was in the same room eased the knot of fear that had been in her gut since she and Dwight were shot at.

After letting Bobby know she saw him, Eames turned her attention back to the conversation between Dwight and Zabka.

"Of course, I expect some people will be watching how I run this place. I know I haven't built a reputation in this city yet," Zabka commented.

"No rush. Play your cards right, there's no telling how successful this venture could make you."

Zabka laughed. "And speaking of establishing reputations, Bob, I should be greeting some other guests. I'll talk to you later to work out some final details. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Corvino."

"Pleasure's mine," Eames replied.

After Zabka left, Victor turned to Dwight. "I hope one of the details your going to work out later is my stake in this place."

"Vic, you worry too much. You know you're the only one I trust to run my business in New York City."

"Really?" He glanced in Eames direction. "Lately it seems like there's a lot of trust to go around."

Dwight smirked. "Vic, this is a party. Why don't you go enjoy yourself."

Acting like he was reluctantly following an order from a superior officer, Victor stalked off.

"He really doesn't like me," Eames noted.

"Don't worry. Once he gets settled in New York, he won't be around to bother you anymore." Dwight looked at her. "Is something wrong? You look rather distracted."

She smiled nervously. "This party is just way fancier than I'm used to. All these rich people. I feel so out of place."

"Relax, Lily. These are just a bunch of clueless people playing dress up and pretending they find each other fascinating. You have just as much right to be here as any of them."

"Thank you, Bob." She took his hand. "I know I haven't been...um, very expressive of how much I appreciate all you've done for me. After what happened...I know those guys probably would have killed me just for being on your side, and I wanted to say I'm grateful." She hated voicing approval for murder, but if she was going to get away long enough to talk to Bobby, she had to get Dwight to trust her.

"I'm glad you feel that way." He brought her hand to his lips.

"Hey, do you really know Troy Zabka?" Goren's large frame moved into Dwight's body space.

Looking irritated, Dwight backed away. "Yes. Why?"

"Yeah, sorry to interrupt, but...that guy's so great, isn't he? He sure knows how to throw a party." Goren snagged a glass of champagne from a server walking by and drank it in one gulp. Then he stuck his hand out toward Dwight. "Alexander Robertsen, Esquire."

Eames didn't even try to hide her amusement.

"You're a lawyer?" Dwight inquired conversationally.

"Defense attorney, but I'm planning a run for district judge next year." He and Agent King had calculated the career carefully: someone less threatening than law enforcement, but who would still gain immediate attention if he disappeared. The run for judge gave him a plausable reason to be at the party, rubbing elbows with some of the city's influential players. "And you are?"

"Daniel White," he said, easily supplying one of his many aliases.

"And who's you're girlfriend?" The ostensible tipsy lawyer looked Eames over with frank approval. His gaze lingered on her legs longer than politeness dictated.

"Lily Corvino," Eames answered, figuring Dwight would be annoyed but understanding if she used what he thought was her own name. It didn't fit her cover to be secretive.

"A pleasure to meet you." Bobby shook her hand, then held it for several more seconds before asking, "Hey...do you want to dance?"

Eames glanced at Dwight. She was sure that he wouldn't let her out of his earshot with a stranger.

Surprisingly, he smiled. "Go ahead. Enjoy yourself. The night's still young."

Eames smiled at him and followed her partner to the dance floor. She was perplexed and a little nervous that Dwight was letting her dance with Bobby. Maybe he was testing her, seeing if she would take the opportunity to escape, or tell the stranger to call the police. He was probably watching her. If not him, Victor would be. She didn't know if either of them could read lips, but she couldn't take the risk. Besides, with so many people close enough to overhear, she and Bobby had to avoid saying anything too suspicious.

"I'm not used to being around this many people," Eames commented to her partner as if she was making smalltalk with someone she just met.

"Really? I would've thought a girl like you gets invited to all kinds of parties." Goren was playing along. He hadn't had a solid plan when he interrupted Dwight and Eames, but when he saw him kiss her hand he couldn't help but step in. His thumb rubbed Eames' hand where Dwight's lips had been, as though trying to wipe away the slime.

"Then you don't know what kind of girl I am," she said.

He chuckled. Turning to her and placing his hand lightly on her waist, he began leading her in the waltz. He had always wanted to dance with her, always wondered what it would feel like to hold her.

Eames surreptitiously scanned the room. She spotted Victor at the far wall, watching her. "I feel so self-conscious. I'm a terrible dancer," she said, hoping he would pick up the hint that they were under observation.

"Your doing fine." He stepped on her shoe, seemingly accidentally. "Sorry...are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, knowing he wasn't asking about her foot. "I just haven't got a lot of sleep lately. I'm a little clumsy." She laughed. "If I'm not careful, I might trip and hurt myself."

A frown of concern briefly crossed Goren's lips. "I won't let that happen," he said.

"Chivalry is dead, but I appreciate the sentiment." She stepped on his foot and stumbled into him, grasping his arms to keep from falling. "I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure if she was apologizing for stepping on his shoe or for going undercover without telling him, but at that moment he would have forgiven her anything. "It's okay. Remember, I did the same thing to you."

She laughed, but her eyes were overflowing with emotion. She knew he'd been worried about her. And there had been times in the past few days when she'd been afraid she wouldn't live to see him again. She wished she could tell him that.

Goren helped her regain her footing, and they resumed the dance. "It was my fault. Should have been watching my feet."

"I can take care of myself," Eames assured him.

"That doesn't stop me from being concerned."

"Sometimes it's nice to know there's someone there to worry about you. I used to tell my son that when I yelled at him it wasn't because I was angry, it was just because I care about him."

He felt a lump growing in his throat when he realized she was talking about him. He unconsciously pulled her closer, protectively.

She stumbled a little again, and looked down at her feet. "Tell King that Dwight ordered the hit in Atlantic City," she mumbled quickly. Even if Bobby didn't know what she was talking about, he'd get the message to the FBI agent. She looked back up with an apologetic smile.

He gazed at her. "You're so beautiful, Lily. You must feel like all the eyes in the room are on you." He was letting her know that he knew they were being watched.

"Maybe not all of them," she laughed, then moved closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Victor James," she said, still pretending to laugh, "does most of the shooting. He's still carrying the gun."

Goren kept smiling as he tried to think of a way to ask her how much danger she was in.

The song ended.

Eames took a step back. "Thanks for the dance, Mr. Robertsen. Maybe I'll see you around."

She tried to walk away, but he kept hold of her hand, suddenly terrified of letting her go. "One more dance. Please."

Frowning, she looked around for Dwight. When she didn't see him, she decided that two dances wouldn't threaten their covers any more than one had. It was completely consistent with what Lily Corvino and Alexander Robertsen would do. She turned back to him. "Just one more."

He pulled her closer, enjoying the reassuring presence of her body against his. Neither of them spoke this time. Eames closed her eyes and laid her head against his chest. He held her; as long as she was in his arms he knew she was safe.

When the dance was over, he reluctantly let her go. They still didn't say anything, but kept their eyes on each other for a long moment as she walked away.

* * *

"You seemed to have a nice chat with Mr. Alexander Robertsen, Esquire," Dwight noted when he found Eames heading for the open bar.

"Yeah, he seems like a decent guy. Came on a little strong, but it was kinda nice to feel interesting to men. Haven't really felt like that since the divorce."

"I was thinking..." His pager began vibrating. When he checked the number, Eames saw it too: 917-555-0803, a New York City area code. Dwight walked away quickly.

Eames turned away and sipped her wine, but listened closely to Dwight's phone call.

"I got the money...Tomorrow. Noon. Same spot as last time...No; There was some trouble back in Jersey. I'll be laying low for a while...Let's just say I'm going to make sure there are enough people who will swear I've been in New York all week...Why? Have they sent someone to replace the last one?...What do I pay you for? Find out!"

It sounded like he was talking to his NYPD contact. Eames decided not to let him know she'd heard him. She slipped into the crowd.

Dwight put away his phone and glanced around, but didn't seem to be looking for her. He spotted whatever he was looking for and headed towards it. Eames considered following him again, but instead decided to find Bobby. She needed to somehow get him this new information.

* * *

Goren knew it would look suspicious if he left right after dancing with Eames. Plus, after finding her he really didn't want to leave her again. He got some food, and looked around for some other women he might ask to dance to pass the time and look casual.

"Hello again, Mr. Robertsen."

He turned to see Bob Dwight behind him. "Hi. Where's your girlfriend?"

"She didn't tell you? Lily's not my girlfriend. She works for me."

"Oh. What does she do?"

"This and that. You know, she seems to like you."

"Really? Did she say that?" He sounded hopeful.

"More or less. I could arrange for you to spend some more time with her. Privately."

Goren was suddenly filled with anger and foreboding as he realized what Dwight was trying to do, but he was careful not to show it. "Yeah?" he said neutrally.

"I could arrange a room in the hotel for the two of you. Most of the rooms were reserved weeks ago, but since I'm friends with the owner...of course, it would be fairly expensive tonight. "

Goren looked hesitant.

"It's up to you. But I know for a fact she'd be more than happy to get to know you better."

Eames saw her partner and moved toward him. When she noticed he was talking to Dwight, she circled around so Bobby could see her but Dwight couldn't.

When Goren noticed Eames moving toward them, he glanced at her, then looked around quickly as though to make sure he and Dwight weren't being overheard. He took a step closer. "This would all be legal, right? I mean, it would just be me paying for the room, not for your girl."

Dwight almost laughed. "You're a lawyer. I'm sure you know more about the intricacies of the law than I do. You tell me."

Eames caught on. It explained why Dwight had let her dance with Goren; he'd been setting this up. She quickly realized it would provide a perfect opportunity for her to tell Bobby everything she knew about Dwight's crimes, including the number of his friend in the NYPD. She nodded slightly.

Goren's eyes flicked to her, and then he looked over his shoulder. "How much can you get me the room for?"

"Three thousand."

Goren whistled. "I'm sure it's nice, but maybe not that nice. Can't you get it for me for, say, five hundred?" It made him sick to be bartering over his partner, but he had to stay in character.

"I can maybe bring it down to fifteen hundred," Dwight replied.

"How about an even thousand? Sound fair?"

"Deal."

"It will take me a little bit to get the cash..."

"Be here at midnight. I'll be waiting with your room key in the front lobby."

Bobby rubbed his chin, looking like he was having second thoughts, until Eames disappeared back into the crowd, then he nodded. "I'll see you at twelve." He turned and walked away before he could give in to the temptation to smash Dwight into the ground like the vermin he was.

* * *

Dwight found Eames a few minutes later. "How are you enjoying yourself?"

"Do these gigs get any better? Because frankly I'd rather be sleeping, and these shoes are killing me."

He laughed. "Well, I'm sorry but it might be a while. I have a job for you."

"What?"

He steered her out of the ballroom into the empty hall. "That lawyer, Mr. Robertsen, the gentleman you were dancing with?"

"What about 'im?"

"I got a room for him. It comes with you."

"A client. That takes me back."

"If he wins the judge seat he's running for, it might be very advantageous for us to have some footage of him with a convicted prostitute."

"Ah," Eames nodded. "For blackmail."

"I don't like that word."

"And I don't like the word 'prostitute'. It sounds so clinical."

"I apologize." They stepped into an elevator, and Dwight hit the button for the tenth floor. "He'll be up around midnight. That should give you plenty of time to get ready."

He walked her to the room, giving her no chance to find a phone to warn Bobby. Once inside the room, she didn't dare risk it, not knowing whether she was already under surveillance. How was she going to handle this?

If Dwight figured out they were cops, they were both dead.


	9. A Fronte Praecipitum, a Tergo Lupi

Chapter 9: _A Fronte Praecipitum, a Tergo Lupi_

After leaving the hotel, Goren met up with Agent King and explained what had happened.

"That's all she could tell you?" King asked.

"It was a public place. We couldn't say too much. She had something else to tell me."

"How do you know?"

"Before I left...she looked at me."

"That's all? She _looked _at you?" King asked skeptically.

"We do that. We...read each other."

King nodded. "So Dwight offered, and you accepted."

"It wasn't just so I could talk to her. I was afraid if I didn't, he'd try it with someone else. I can't let that happen. We can arrest him for this, get Eames out of there now."

"If we did that, we might never know who Dwight's dirty cop is, and the rest of his network would go into full cover-up mode." King handed him an envelope containing a stack of $100 bills. "This contingency fits into the purview of our investigation. Protect the operative."

Goren looked at him as he took the envelope. "You really do understand, don't you?"

"I understand that you'll go in there whether I approve it or not," he replied. "That she's your partner, and you'll do anything for her. I also understand that one of the dangers of undercover work is that, if you're not careful, the act can become real."

"Does that have something to do with why you left the CIA?" Goren asked.

King's face remained impassive. "What makes you think I was CIA?"

"When you got my fake I.D.s, you called them 'bona fides'. That's...what they're called in intelligence work. When the operation didn't work out like you expected, you didn't abort it. You improvised by bringing me in. That's not FBI training. To me, that looks more like...well, what a spy would do. The CIA was just a guess."

"If that were true, it would be classified," King informed him. He added slowly, "What's not classified is that I have experience that my superiors believe qualifies me to handle an intricate undercover operation, but the psychological evaluation in my employment records recommends that I don't do long-term undercover work myself."

"I see." Goren looked down at the envelope. "Thank you."

As Goren climbed out of the car, King added, "You should keep in mind, Detective, when you do lose her...it's going to hurt like hell."

* * *

Eames circled the room, adjusting the lamp on the bedside table, loosening the covers on the king-size bed, opening and closing the curtains. She was looking for where the hidden camera might be, and she was trying to come up with a plan.

There so many ways this could result in disaster. If she tried to run and someone was already watching her-which was exactly the level of precaution that had kept Dwight in business and out of prison all these years-then not only might she be killed, but they might take Bobby when he came back for her. Too great a risk. She had to keep up the act. Somehow, she had to let Bobby know what was going on. If either of them said or did something to give them away, they weren't likely to survive the night.

If they did what Dwight expected, there would be video evidence that would come to light in an investigation. Even if they weren't accused of prostitution, if the tape came to attention of the NYPD, their careers would be over.

She could take the fall. As senior partner, it would be her plan; he would just be following her lead. Bobby might keep his job. But he might never speak to her again.

That was another thing that terrified her: if she went through with it, he would know...he would realize that she wanted to. Even if the surveillance footage never turned up, he might request a new partner.

But he would be alive. That was the important part. Whatever the consequences for her, Bobby's life was on the line. If anything happened to him because of her...she didn't know how she could live with it.

Eames took a deep breath and tried to suppress her fears. Best case scenario: put on a show for Dwight, make a convincing act for the camera that she was nothing more than a seasoned prostitute, and he an ambitious lawyer with a dubious moral standard. Convince the people behind the camera, but avoid any proof of incriminating activities. Get a message to him without it being visible on film.

Looking in the mirror across from the bed, she took the clip out of her hair and brushed it loose, and examined her makeup . She rubbed at an imaginary blemish on her forehead, then scratched the mirror as though she thought it might be a speck on the glass. There was no distance between her fingernail and its reflection. She'd been in enough interrogation rooms to recognize a two-way mirror when she saw one. The camera would be somewhere behind the mirror. Nearly the entire room was visible from that vantage point, from the door in one corner to the writing desk in the other, the bed was front and center. There was probably another camera in the bathroom mirror.

She moved to the writing desk. There was a memo pad and a ball-point pen bearing the hotel's name in gold lettering. She thought about writing a message, but realized just writing would look suspicious. Someone might come in to see what she'd written.

She sat on the edge of the desk facing the mirror. Looking bored, she clicked the pen a few times, then set it back down on the desk. She looked at the clock and sighed. She turned down the thermostat to sixty degrees Fahrenheit. Then she began fixing her hair in the mirror again. Her stomach was fluttering with nervousness, and not just because of the palpable knowledge that their lives were in danger. In only a few minutes, she would be kissing her partner. Bobby. Her eyes drifted closed and she sighed shakily, remembering the feeling of his hands on her as they danced, imagining his lips on hers. This would be a tough balancing act. A small laugh escaped her lips as she imagined explaining this in court. _Your Honor, this isn't what it looks like. I was only in bed with my partner to keep us both from getting shot. I didn't even have sex with him. Well of course I _wanted _to._

And there was another fear: once she crossed the line, would she be able to stop?

* * *

Goren entered the lobby a few minutes after midnight. Without a word, he handed Dwight ten hundreds. Dwight gave him the key card to room 1016.

The elevator seemed slow to arrive, and even slower to take him to the tenth floor. He tried to think of what he would say first. Probably apologize for bartering for her. But all he really cared about was seeing her.

He paused outside the door. His hands shook as he slid the key card into the slot.

Eames stood up quickly. "Mr. Robertsen," she said before she even saw him.

He closed the door behind him and looked at her with confusion.

She gestured down at her stiletto heels, lying on the floor next to the bed. "I took them off. They were killing my feet. I wish I could've worn some sensible shoes. But it's important to have the proper footwear for the occasion."

His confusion dissolved into dawning comprehension as her words reminded him of a case where they investigated a manipulative conman who ran an empowerment workshop. He'd made them as cops in a minute, and when Goren asked how, he said the first clue was Eames' sensible shoes. She was warning him that they still had to keep up the act.

They were under surveillance; it was the only explanation. He froze.

Eames smiled and stepped toward him. "You look nervous, Mr. Robertsen."

"Alex...call me Alex," he said.

It the situation hadn't been so serious, she would have laughed. She would ask him later why he chose that alias. Maybe it was so he could say her name without sounding like he was addressing her. She put her hand on his arm. "Don't tell me this is your first time, Mr. Robertsen," she teased.

"_Alex..._" he whispered. What was she doing? Did she have a plan?

She fervently hoped he would play along. "Relax."

He shivered as she trailed her hands up his arms and around his neck. She pulled his head down toward her. Inches from him, her eyes met his. Her eyes were filled with apologies, uncertainties, fears. He could feel her breath on his lips.

_Only an act,_ Eames reminded herself, and she pressed her lips softly against his.

His arms circled around her back automatically. He was finding it difficult to think. If only he'd had more time to prepare for this, as she seemed to.

After several seconds of stillness, Eames began to nibble at his lips. Bobby's hands slid up her back, then he pulled her against him.

Eames deepened the kiss. Her tongue ran along his lips. Her breathing quickened, and with each breath her breasts pressed against his chest. She felt herself losing her focus, losing control of the illusion. She drew away suddenly. For an instant she thought she saw a look of longing on his face.

She began slowly unbuttoning his suit. "You seem tense," she said. "Just imagine I'm the woman of your dreams."

"You are," he told her. He stepped closer and pressed his lips into her hair. He inhaled deeply.

His shirt and jacket fell to the floor. She ran her fingers across his shoulders and chest, then down his stomach. With a sly smile, she hooked her fingers through his belt loops and tugged him after her as she retreated across the room. She sat on the edge of the desk and pulled him between her legs.

Goren tried to focus on controlling his body's response to her, but it became hopeless when she started pressing small kisses along his collar bone, then she nibbled her way up his neck. When she began sucking on his earlobe, it was all he could do to keep from losing control completely. "Lily," he forced himself to say instead of her name. "Oh, Lily..."

Eames tried to focus on her plan. She had deliberately positioned Bobby between herself and the mirror, where she thought the hidden camera was. Her hand fumbled around the desk behind her until it closed around the pen. Keeping it hidden, she slid her hand up her dress and across her breast, then tucked the pen into her cleavage. Then she let go of his ear and began kissing his shoulders.

He pressed his hands against the bare skin of her back, then ran his hands over her shoulders and down her arms to take her hands. He brought her left hand to his lips and kissed her palm, then her wrist, then up the smooth skin of her arm. He paused and traced his fingertips over the bumps on her skin. "You're cold," he noticed.

"You mentioned the ballroom was too hot for you while we were dancing; I wanted you to be comfortable."

He looked at her. He was sure he hadn't said that. This was part of her plan somehow. "Want to go to bed?" he asked.

"I thought you'd never ask." She slid off the desk and led him to the bed, where he threw aside the blankets. She pushed him down and spread herself out on top of him, kissing him hungrily. He pulled the covers over her and wrapped his arms around her.

Eames drew back, smiled at him, then slid down his body. Hidden from the view of any cameras, she dug the pen from under her dress and tugged Goren's pants down.

Goren wasn't sure what she was doing, but he trusted her.

She wrote her message on his thigh. _Possible NYPD informant: 917-555-0803. Meeting Dwight tomorrow noon. _She hoped the ink would stay on. Now she just had to make sure he got out alive to deliver the message.

She could smell him. He smelled good. She couldn't help but notice how close her hand was to the evidence of his arousal. She could touch him...accidentally. She moved up, trailing her lips along his stomach. Her hand brushed across his erection.

A gasp escaped from his lips.

She placed a kiss on his chest. He moaned. That had been...unnecessary. It wasn't part of the charade. She'd done that because she wanted to. Because she wanted _him._

His Eames.

He pressed his fist against his lip to keep from saying her name. What was her alias? It escaped his mind at the moment.

Eames emerged from beneath the blankets. She took his hand and covered his mouth with hers.

Bobby slowly unzipped her dress and ran his fingers down her spine. She shivered. She could feel his erection against her inner thigh. So close. She was throbbing, wanting to feel him inside her.

But she couldn't, she reminded herself. Not now, not when he couldn't refuse. It was difficult to break the kiss this time. She looked down at him, running her fingers through his hair, and looked in his eyes, afraid that she'd gone too far.

He gazed back at her. She couldn't read his expression.

Unexpectedly, he turned over, pinning her beneath him. She closed her eyes.

"Am I hurting you?" he worried.

"No," she breathed.

He just looked at her for a minute. It was unbelievable: here he was, closer to the woman he loved than he'd ever hoped to be, and it was just an act. "Lily..."

When he said the name, she flinched. Her lips moved almost silently. "Bobby."

He stroked her cheek, ran his thumb lightly over her lips. He began kissing her neck. His hands slid down her bunched-up dress and came to rest on her thigh. He wished more than he could have described that this could be real, could be happening under different circumstances. It was hard to be this close and resist crossing the final line. But he had to. He moved his hand away.

Eames ran her hand down his arm and interlocked her fingers with his. "Kiss me," she whispered.

He did. They kissed and touched and enjoyed the feeling of their bodies together.

It was nearly four in the morning when he reluctantly drew away. "I need to go," he said.

"I know."

She watched him as he dressed. At the door, he looked back. "I'll never forget you, Lily." He dropped his eyes and left quickly, before he could change his mind.

Eames sighed and closed her eyes. If their performance had been convincing, Bobby would get out of the hotel safely and deliver her message to King, and she would remain undercover with Dwight until he was arrested. If not, it was entirely possible that was the last time they would see each other alive.


	10. Elysium

Chapter 10: Elysium

Wallace Monroe had worked in the Chief of Detective's office ever since an injury took him off active duty a few years ago. Before that, he'd been a decorated detective. He'd gotten to his position by playing department politics like a pro, and not getting caught when he broke the rules.

Back when Bob Dwight worked in New York, Detective Monroe had let him off the hook on a possession charge, and been rewarded with a bigger payday than he earned in months of honest work.

His post allowed him access to documents related to undercover operations. He alerted Dwight every time he found out about a raid being directed against him, and he'd told him about Officer Margo Suzuki's investigation.

Wallace walked through the park, trying not to look nervous. He'd taken an early lunch break, like he often did. He ate a greasy slice of street vendor pizza as he walked.

Dwight was sitting at the bench beside the jogging trail. It was hidden from the sidewalk by a grove of thick trees, making it a good inconspicuous meeting place. Dwight's henchmen Victor was standing off to the side, leaning against a tree and pretending to be texting on his cellphone.

Wallace sat next to Dwight. "I want an extra thousand next time."

"Why?" Dwight asked mildly.

"I figured out what happened in Jersey. You shot seven people."

"Just drug dealers. What is it you cops say? No humans involved?"

"Still...it's making things riskier for me."

"You did that when you told me about Suzuki. You knew what would happen to her."

"I never told you to kill her. I think they might have sent someone else after you."

"Last night you said you didn't know," Dwight pointed out.

"Last night I hadn't made the connection. I didn't see anything about an undercover at the office, but a few days ago I heard a detective at the bar brag about working with a guy from the Major Case Squad. This guy, this Major Case detective, has kind of a reputation. Pretty much he doesn't work well with other cops except his regular partner, so I figured if he was teaming with someone else, his partner had to be gone. I pulled her record this morning, and it turns out she used to work with Suzuki back in Vice." He handed him a photograph he'd printed out. "Detective Alex Eames. Watch your back. These guys are serious business."

Dwight's eyes narrowed as he took the photo. "Lily."

Wallace glanced nervously at an Asian man jogging past them on the trail. "I think we should get out of here," he said.

"Why?"

"Because I'm pretty sure I bumped into that guy outside my office earlier." He picked up the manila envelope containing the money and started walking in the opposite direction.

A group of people walked by. One of them carried a doughnut box. Wallace walked slowly, trying not to draw attention to himself.

"Hey, Wallace!" a young man called out.

He tensed.

The empty doughnut box opened and the five FBI agents grabbed their guns from it. One of them pointed his gun at Wallace, the others aimed at Dwight and Victor.

King jogged back to the bench. "Robert Dwight, you're under arrest for eight counts of murder, sale of controlled substances, solicitation, and bribing an officer of the law. And that's just until we're done searching your place in Atlantic City. Wallace Monroe, conspiracy to commit murder and accepting bribes. Victor James, let's start with the murder of a police officer and see where it goes from there."

"I have the right to know the evidence against me," Dwight said as one of the agents put him in handcuffs.

"Besides the testimony of Detective Eames and the gun we just found on your friend over there, which I'm sure will match at least some of the bullets in the bodies, we have..." King pressed a button on a small recording device he was carrying.

_"...about Suzuki. You knew what would happen to her."_

"Your own words," King concluded as he pressed the button to stop it. He walked up to Wallace and picked off the tiny adhesive microphone he'd planted on his jacket when he bumped into him outside the Chief of Detective's office. "You should have been more attentive, Monroe. But then, if you were a good detective you would have known better than to go into business with a guy like Bob Dwight."

While Dwight was maintaining his cool and trying to think of how to present his defense, Victor's eyes were blazing with rage. "When you see this Detective Eames," he said, "tell her that her days are numbered."

"She already owns a calendar," King quipped. "It's the number of your days you should be worried about; you might lose track of them while spending the rest of your life in a prison cell. Take them away."

* * *

Captain Ross couldn't wait until Eames returned. Goren was useless without her.

He watched the detective from his office window. Goren was sitting at his desk, trying to fill out a report. He was unable to stay still, and fidgeted with his pen, flipped through the papers without really seeing them, and looked at Eames' empty chair at least once a minute. Ross was considering encouraging Goren to take some vacation time.

At that moment, the elevator doors opened and Agent King walked in, with Eames beside him. Goren didn't look in their direction until Eames said something to draw his attention. He stood up quickly, and the three of them continued to the captain's office.

"Agent King," he said in greeting. "Detectives."

"I wanted to thank you for lending me Eames," King said. "Thanks to her, Bob Dwight and his gang are going away for a very, very long time."

"That's good to hear."

"It looks like Dwight was trying to set up some kind of blackmail scheme through the Zabka Hotel. Several of its rooms were rigged with hidden cameras. I personally reviewed the footage, and unfortunately didn't find anything incriminating. Which means, I'm afraid, that we don't have enough to charge Troy Zabka."

It also meant whatever was on those surveillance videos wouldn't become public knowledge. Goren felt a weight lift off his chest.

"I guess we'll just have to keep an eye on him," Ross commented.

"I'll be in touch if we find any evidence in Dwight's files that we can use against him. It was an honor working with you, Detectives." King left.

"Eames, is there any follow-up work you need to get done on this case?" Ross inquired.

"I already filled out the reports at the FBI field office," she replied. "And let me tell you, I'm not going to be complaining about the amount of paperwork you make us do for a while."

Ross chuckled at her joke. "Then why don't you both take the rest of the day off. I'm sure you could use it."

"Thanks captain," Eames said.

They made it out in time to share the elevator with Agent King. "Your captain let you go early?"

"Yeah," Goren replied.

"He seems like a nice guy."

Goren and Eames were silent for several seconds, then Goren said, "Thank you. For..."

"Your welcome."

"If there's ever anything I can do to repay you..."

"Your partner helped me take down a very bad man," King said. "It was the least I could do."

Eames spoke up. "Still, if you ever need our help again, just give us a call."

King nodded. "I might do that." He glanced at both of them as the elevator doors opened. "I'll see you at the trial."

The two detectives didn't speak as they walked through the parking garage. Bobby hadn't been sure what would happen when Eames got back, how she would feel, what she would say.

"You hungry?" Eames asked. She looked at him, and when he didn't answer, said, "I'll buy you dinner. We need to talk."

* * *

In a private booth at a Korean restaurant, Eames watched her partner over a dish of noodles. He kept his eyes down, resolutely not looking at her. She didn't know how he felt about what had happened. She hoped he felt the same way she did. It had been her idea, her initiative; if he didn't have feelings for her, then it would be best to just forget it ever happened. So she waited for him to say something first.

He tried to think of where to begin, but nothing came to mind. All he could think about was kissing her.

After several silent minutes, Eames began. "You know, Bobby, we're both grown-ups. We can discuss this."

"I know."

"We've worked together for so long, there's no reason for us to be all weird about it."

"Right."

"It's not like we've never broken rules for each other before," she added.

"Right."

"And considering how many times we've pretended to be married, that wasn't really that different. Just the next step, really."

"That's...true," he said, uncertain of where she was going.

"Besides, we had to. If they'd found out we were cops..."

"They would have killed you."

"And you, too. You know I'd do anything for you, Bobby."

He wasn't sure what she meant by that. Did she mean she cared about him, or that she regarded their night together as nothing more than something she had to do to protect him?

"And you have to know that if I could think of any other way, I never would have dragged you into that."

He blinked. "I...I know. It's okay. Eames..."

She waited for a moment, but he was once again at a loss for words. "So what we did while we were undercover doesn't have to change the way we work together. I mean, we are professionals."

"Yeah," he said.

"And you know I would never do anything to take advantage of you."

"Right. Neither would I. I...um...Eames...You know...there's no one I respect more than you. I wouldn't do anything to...hurt your career. Or...our friendship."

"Exactly. And there's no reason we have to. It was just an act. People do and say things they don't mean all the time when they're undercover. We don't have to talk or even think about it again. We can just move on like nothing happened."

Goren looked down at his food, which was suddenly unappetizing. He'd been almost sure that she'd wanted to as much as he had. But now she was saying it had just been part of being undercover. He felt a little bit of relief that at least he wouldn't lose her; they would go back to being partners, their relationship wouldn't change. But he was also hurt, because their night together had meant something to him that it apparently hadn't meant to her. He rubbed his finger across his lips and tried not to breathe. "Right. We can do that," he said, trying not to let his pain show.

She nodded. "Okay. I'm glad we talked about this."

"Yeah."

A few seconds later, he looked up at her in sudden confusion. She'd scoffed.

"Really?" she asked. "You, Detective Bobby Goren, the best profiler in the NYPD...you're really just going to sit there and let me lie like that? That wasn't just an act. Not all of it. For either of us." She'd been trying to get him to definitively state whether or not he had feeling for her without pressuring him by telling him she was in love with him. When she saw his pain, she realized that he wouldn't; he would suffer anything to do what he thought she wanted, even if it meant denying his own feelings. When he still didn't say anything, she added, with the slightest trace of uncertainty, "Was it?"

"Eames," he said quickly, filling her name with layers of emotions. She'd asked him, so he could tell her the truth now. It was time to tell her he loved her. But he couldn't force the words through the walls he'd built up over years to protect himself and her. "For a long time...When you went on maternity leave, I realized that I couldn't...handle...things...without you. You meant more to me..._mean_ more to me than anyone or anything else."

She toyed with her food. "You could've said something."

"I couldn't risk losing you." He shook his head slightly. "Besides...so could you."

"I should have," she agreed. "I guess...I wasn't afraid of losing you, but I guess I just didn't want things to be weird between us. I had no idea you felt that way about me. I was sure you would have said something if you did."

"You were always so good at keeping your personal and professional lives separate."

She flicked her hair out of her face and looked at him. "That may be true, but I want you in both of them."

He looked up. She was saying this even knowing everything wrong with his life, knowing better than anyone how unstable he could be, how troubled he was. He hadn't been with anyone for years, and it wasn't just because he loved Eames and was willing to devote his life to her even if it meant going home to an empty bed every night. He hadn't even dated ever since he found out his father was a serial killer, because he would have felt guilty about hiding it and he was sure no woman would want to be with him knowing it. But she already knew, and she was saying she still wanted to be with him. "Are you sure about that?" he asked quietly.

She reached across the table and took his hand, lightly sliding her fingers between his. "Are you?"

He gazed at her face, no longer willing or able to look away. "Yeah."

"Come home with me?"

"Do you think that's...a little fast?"

"I think we've waited long enough."

His brain fogging with her touch, he could only nod.

* * *

Alex led Bobby into her house, into her bedroom. They sat on the edge of her bed and only gazed at each other for long moments.

Bobby reached out and caressed the contours of her face. "Alex," he whispered.

She smiled gently, closed her eyes. He slowly bent down, taking his time, kissed her. She pressed herself into it.

No cameras to perform for, no fear of death compelling them. This kiss was all theirs.

Cupping the back of her head, her hair clasped between his fingers, he pull her deeper. His other hand held her shoulder, then wandered down her back, down the curve of her waist, coming to rest on her hip.

As their kisses intensified, she shifted her leg so that she was straddling his lap. He laid back, pulling her along with him. Breaking away from his lips, she undid the top button of his shirt, then placed a kiss on his chest. She made her way down, kissing his skin after each button came loose. He closed his eyes and shivered with anticipation when she reached his belt.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" she inquired.

He nodded. "Alex," he breathed. "I can't even tell you...can't even describe how great this is."

She smiled. "I think I have a pretty good guess." More quietly, still smiling, she said, "I'll be right back." She left the bed and returned a moment later with a condom.

Bobby couldn't believe this was actually happening, that this was real. He stood up and circled around her. He slipped his hands around her slender waist, then lifted off her shirt. He trailed his fingertips over the silk-smooth skin of her back, exploring every inch of it. He unhooked her bra strap. She let her bra fall to the floor. Her eyes closed as she focused on the feeling of his fingers and breath on her skin.

"Are you cold?" he asked as he ran his hands down her arms.

"No."

He took the condom from her hand, and she heard his pants fall to the floor. Then his hands were on her waist again, and he began kissing her back, her shoulders, up and down the indentation of her spine, the back of her neck.

Eames felt like her knees were getting weak. That had never happened to her before. She leaned back, resting her head on his chest.

His fingers began toying with the top of her pants. "Eames, is this okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes!"

He slid her pants and underwear off her hips. She kicked them aside.

She covered his hands with her own, and slid one slowly up to her breasts, the other down.

He pulled her up against him. His hand ran over her curls, then slipped in to the wet warmth between her thighs. He kissed her neck.

"Bobby," she breathed as his fingers slid inside her. "Oh my God."

He walked her to the bed. She laid back, her hair spilled over her pillow. He took a moment to look at her, drinking in the fullness of her beauty in the moonlight. He caressed her breasts as he placed a quick kiss on her lips before moving down her body. He kissed her nipple, then sucked on it as his thumb rubbed the other one. Then he moved lower, kissing her stomach, then her hip. He kissed the inside of one of her thighs, then the other.

Eames moaned. She felt his kisses move deeper. His lips. His tongue. Her hands dug into the blankets beneath her as euphoria spread from his kiss up to her brain. A sharp cry escaped her throat as her rapture boiled over, convulsing through her body. She lay back panting.

"Are you okay?" Bobby asked.

She sat up and kissed him hard. Then she pushed him down onto the bed and moved on top of him, looking at him with a mix of adoration and desire. "Perfect," she answered. "Are you ready?"

He nodded.

Eames closed her eyes and gasped as she finally enfolded him, felt herself fill with a delicious pressure. She began to move rhythmically over him. Wave after wave of pleasure moved through them, each one more forceful, insistent. They whispered and moaned and cried out each others names until the bliss became unbearable and culminated with a final pulse of ecstasy.

She lay down on top of him, resting her face against his neck and breathing heavily. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking her back. He couldn't remember ever feeling happier or more at peace than he did at this moment. He felt different, and it took him a minute to figure out what was missing: loneliness. The sense of isolation that had been a part of him since his childhood was gone. He was with her; nothing separated them either physically or emotionally.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too."

Her words surprised him; not just because he'd thought she was asleep, but because it was hard to believe that he could be so lucky, that he could be the one she loved. "What?"

She propped herself up and looked into his eyes. She knew better than anyone how difficult his life had been, how much he had suffered. She knew how much it meant to him to hear it, to believe it. "I love you, Bobby." She kissed him, then snuggled against him, pulling the blankets their activities had dislodged over them. They fell asleep.


End file.
